


Masked Nightmares

by Corpasite



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse), Resident Evil - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2019-08-04
Packaged: 2020-07-31 05:35:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20109967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corpasite/pseuds/Corpasite
Summary: Trauma is a powerful and life-changing force.  To overcome is to face the very essence of fear and pain.Started off as a one-off statement and grew into this.





	Masked Nightmares

**Masked Nightmares**

**New York, January 13th, 1999**

It’s been seventeen days, eight hours, forty-seven minutes, and nineteen seconds since she climbed her way into the jet piloted by her brother, Chris. Seventeen days, eight hours, forty-seven minutes, and now twenty-five seconds since she left Steve’s body in Antarctica. All of that pales in comparison to the past eight hours, sixteen minutes, and fifty-six seconds she has spent lying down on this couch-chair-lounge thing talking kind of to the kind elderly man dressed in tan khakis and a light blue dress shirt with the sleeves folded up to his elbows. Even though she’s taken more showers since she’s gotten back then most of the people living around the house she finds herself in, the stink, the decay, the death hasn’t left her senses.

“Am I holding you up from anything?” her voice, though soft, still echoes through the large library-like office.

The kind man sitting across from her with one leg propped up on the other’s knee just smiles and twirls the pencil in his hands, “Never, Claire. You may not have spoken much in the past hour, but these, again are your issues to work through. My job is to just listen, to guide, and to help.”

“The things I’ve told you so far,” the redhead spins to a sitting position and runs her hands through her loose hair to gather the stray strands, “you must think I’m crazy…”

The laugh, or hearty chuckle, that leaves his lips startles her and he meets her gaze with a kind smile, “My specialty is dealing with PTSD in extreme circumstances. Survivors of terrorist attacks, mass murders, and horrific violations of the Geneva Convention. I can suspend disbelief for as long as you need to talk about zombies, hulking Tyrants, and agile Hunters. As I said, I’m just here to listen and help.”

Claire smiles back at him and nods, “I don’t really know where to go next…”

“Well, if I may be so bold, I would like to hear more about this Steve that died,” of course he’d choose that topic, but he is the doctor, so she obliges.

“Steve was… An annoying little shit at first… Eventually though, he grew on me…” she pulls her knees up to her chest and rests her chin between them, sighing heavily, “I thought there must have been some mistake, like why would Umbrella capture him and bring him to Rockfort? It wasn’t until I watched him kill his own infected father that I understood his ties to the company… His father worked for them, but was secretly selling their secrets. Umbrella sent a team after him, capturing both Steve and his father while killing his mother…”

The doctor nods slowly and writes something on the pad, Claire doing her absolute best to ignore it, “Two people brought into the mess Umbrella created because of choices their relatives made. It’s a story for the ages, let me tell you. I felt bad for him, being dragged into this because his father decided to betray the company he worked for, but it was Umbrella, his father should have known better.”

“Maybe he did it for his family?” this is not really the usual line of questioning he’s used over the past third of a day, “Figured he would try to sell their secrets, knowing it might inadvertently be a whistle blow to further investigate Umbrella.”

“Umbrella is already under investigation due to its hand in the destruction of Raccoon City,” she wipes a tear from her eyes, “it was a fool’s errand that cost Steve his father.”

“Yes,” he clears his throat, “Steve… Burnside, you said?”

Her ears perk at the framing of the question, “Is there a problem, doctor?”

“How exactly did you get a message to your brother, again?”

“I sent an email to Leon… He was starting work with the US Government and would have access to someone who could locate him for me,” there, in his eyes, some form of recognition, “What is it, doc?”

He pulls out a file and slides it across the table to her, “I can no longer allow you to live in this broken reality you have formed…”

Fire, burning rage as she pounds a fist into her knees, “So you don’t believe me!?”

“I believe these events happened to you,” he points to the file, “but I sincerely doubt they happened with who you think they did.”

Something flashes in her mind, dirty blonde, almost brown hair, covered in snow, “What?”

“Sometimes, when we deal with a traumatic loss, our mind misinterprets the facts to keep itself whole… This could be changed memories that range from no longer remembering they were part of the incident to changing the cast entirely…”

Leon’s signature smirk, covered in blood as his mutate- “What are you talking about?” her hands shakily reach for the file.

** _Leon Scott Kennedy was reported missing on December 26th, 1998 along with Claire Redfield. His death was reported by Chris Redfield on December 28th, 1998 due to an infection by the newly discovered T-Veronica Virus. He leaves behind no living relatives._ **

No, this, no, Claire refuses to believe what she’s reading, “What are you trying to tell me!?”

“I’ve talked to your brother, Chris. He says that Leon was there with you, his dead body was the one he found you holding in Antarctica. Claire, the trauma of losing him caused you to focus on the parts of him you hated, the annoyances, and you turned them into this ‘Steve’.”

“But, but his father…?” the room flashes before she finds herself back in Rockfort Island.

** _Rockfort Island, December 27th, 1998_ **

“You son of a bitch!” Leon fires a round from the pistol in his hands into the left knee of his zombified father, “What deal did you make with them!?”

Claire continues to try to free herself as she keeps one eye on the man before her as he deals with another demon, “WHAT FUCKING DEAL!?”

The zombified Kennedy patriarch groans and reaches for him, but the faster male offers a spin-kick into the form, sending it crashing into a pile of rubble, “Did you try to make a deal with Umbrella to get them to not go after me? What could you possibly have to offer them!? WHAT DID YOU HAVE, SENATOR!?”

That’s right, his father was a Senator, “Leon, we have company…”

His eyes scan the room as more bodies begin to fall from overhead, the number of occupants quickly doubling, and then tripling, “Shit…”

“Give me your gun, I’ll keep them busy as you help me out of this,” the gun is dropped into her hands, where she quickly starts dropping the encroaching horde with well-placed headshots.

“He must’ve,” a massive groan from her partner as he struggles to lift the debris from her legs, “must’ve vowed to keep silent in the case against them. He should’ve known that I wouldn’t keep quiet…”

Another body crumples to the ground as the gun clicks empty, “Leon. Leon, leave me. Get out.”

“No chance, Red,” he flips to his back and drives his left foot into the chin of the closest zombie, snapping the head off and buying them a bit more time, “we get out of here together.”

“I know, we’ll get out of here,” she grunts and helps him push the debris off her legs, “we always do.”

**New York, January 13th, 1999**

“No,” she shakes her head, not liking what is coming to mind, “it was Steve…”

The good doctor isn’t going to let up on this, not with the walls finally showing weakness, “Thinking of the loss in terms of something you can better handle is normal. Someone you hold dear has died, your mind compensates so you can get through the rest of it by hiding that behind something you don’t mind losing. An annoying kid for instance. Feel the pain, Claire, it’s the only way to move on…”

He’s wrong, it wasn’t Leon, it can’t be because she emailed him to locate Chris… _That’s wrong and you know it…_

** _Rockfort Island, December 27th, 1998_ **

“We can escape on our own, we don’t need your brother,” Leon slides the locking bolt in place and leans against the wall as Claire bends over the computer desk, his eyes suitably distracted.

Claire feels his eyes on her and she can’t fight the flirty hip-twist she does in his direction, “Focus, hero. Anyone attacking this island will have made sure to bomb the airstrip to prevent escape. For now, unless we find an alternate way off the island, getting a message to Chris is our best option. Who was that connection you have in the N.S.A.?”

“You mean my handler?” she notes the disgust he has for the word, but being one-step removed from the Secret Service just makes him an asset to be deployed in the field when they see fit, “Name’s Hunnigan. Want her email address?”

Claire turns from the monitor and leans back against it, her hands pressed on both sides of the keyboard, “Message sent… I just hope she’s able to do what we couldn’t and locate my brother. By the way… How did you get approval to take this spontaneous trip to Europe and destinations more exotic?”

Her breath catches in her throat as he quickly crosses the distance between them, his waist resting against her stomach as he leans down, hands dropping onto hers, “Just told them I earned a vacation and I owed my fiancé an island getaway… They didn’t like it, but they relented.”

“They probably won’t make that mistake again,” he’s so close, her body fighting against the idea that he might be **_too_** close, “seeing as I’m not your fiancé and we did just ask them for help and rescue…”

“I can easily fix one of those,” he better not, not here.

He doesn’t, thankfully, sadly, and Leon turns from her, his hands slowly sliding off her own, causing a shiver through her body, “What happened to the rookie cop I met in Raccoon City?”

“Government Training,” he clenches his fists before looking over his shoulder and smirking, “also comes with a thirst for martinis that are shaken, not stirred…”

She laughs at the joke, loving the small bit of brevity he’s brought to a tense situation, “Okay, we need to go, double-oh-Kennedy.”

**New York, January 13th, 1999**

Tears pour relentlessly from her eyes now, the denim of her jeans soaked through at the knees as she sobs hard and sharply, “I didn’t lose him… I can’t lose him…”

The doctor says nothing at this, just letting her process and grieve. There are two conflicting stories in her mind: one that reeks of truth and pain, another that feels like bad fanfiction. She so wants the fanfiction to be her reality, not because it hurts less, but because it means **_he _**would still be alive. How can she move on, not with her life, but from this couch without him outside the door awaiting her exit in the car? She can’t even remember who is out in the car, is there even anyone in the car waiting for her? Chris, most likely, could be Jill, but it will never again be Leon S. Kennedy, the rookie cop who flirted with her in the rain, who helped her get Sherry to safety… The world feels smaller, claustrophobic, suffocating without him in it, and she hates it for that feeling.

“Why do I get to live and not him?” she doesn’t ask the question for an answer, because the wall breaks down again to show her she already knows the answer.

** _Rockfort Island, December 27th, 1998_ **

The mutated form of Leon drops against the wall, the stress of the virus too much for his body to handle, but is he starting to return to normal? Her eyes must be playing tricks on her through the tears, they have to be.

“Cl..re…” the voice is ragged, wet, and hard-spoken.

The redhead drops into his lap as the monster returns to being the man, blood dribbling from his lips as he reaches for her, “I’m so sorr… Sorry…”

“No, no,” she caresses his face and cleans the blood from his lips, trying her best to put on a brave face she knows he sees through, “we’re getting out of here, together, always.”

His eyes flash with a bit of life, “Not this time, Red,” he coughs a few times before slamming his head back against the wall, defeated, “I’m sorry. I was careless… I couldn’t let them hurt you. They are punishing you because I couldn’t keep quiet, just like my father…”

“You stupid man,” she can’t bring herself to be angry, “if you didn’t, I would’ve and you’d be sitting in my lap as I stop mutating… What did we do to deserve this?”

Leon fights to force a smile to his face, “We fought for happiness, Claire. I would do that fight again every single time because I… I…”

Another violent coughing fit sends blood from his mouth to her shirt and vest, the redhead paying no attention to it as she cleans his face again, both of them crying now, “I love you, Claire…”

Her name holds in his breath for what feels like an eternity before it drops off, fading before the sounds of the cavern they ended up in, “Leon…”

**New York, January 13th, 1999**

Claire doesn’t even remember standing up, let alone opening the front door, but she turns back to the doctor and says, “Thank you…”

His eyes sparkle as he nods at her, “Same time next week?”

“No,” she slips her jacket on, the same one that provided little Sherry Birkin with comfort through her first nightmare, “a good friend once told me something that I want to live by…”

“That would be?” he seems worried, but he knows the type of hero she is going to be.

Claire Redfield zips the jacket up, steps through the door and swipes the last pair of tears she will ever shed from her eyes, “I’ve got a job to do, and I’m going to see it through.”

**End.**


End file.
